beneath the milky twilight
by uninspired me
Summary: It was just a bet. No harm could possibly come from a stupid bet. Right? Loosely based on the movie "She's All That".
1. Chapter 1

**beneath the milky twilight **

Summary: It was just a bet. No harm could possibly come from a stupid bet. Right? Loosely based on the movie "She's All That".

A/N: This story was inspired by the poster manip posted on tumblr by stealingmachines. I hope she doesn't mind. I don't use tumblr except to look at the pretty pictures, so I have no idea how to ask her if it's okay. Anyway, the title was taken from the song '_Kiss _me' by Six Pence None the Richer.

Anyway... I hope you all enjoy! :D

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 <strong>

Rachel Berry was like a whirlwind as she hurried around her bedroom, quickly gathering her notebooks (colour-coded, of course) and packing them neatly into her bright pink trolley bag. She was hoping to get to school early to rehearse her solo in the auditorium. It was the first week back after spring break and with Nationals just four weeks away, Rachel wanted all the extra practice she could get. (She may or may not have _persuaded_ Principal Figgins to let her _borrow_ the keys to the auditorium. It's amazing the incriminating videos that can be found on the internet these days. She never thought that an old hair implants advertisement could cause a grown man so much discomfort and be so ...useful.)

Don't get her wrong. Rachel's not the kind of girl who would break the rules for just anything. It's just that this was her last year at William McKinley high school. Her last year before she graduated and headed off to college. And her last chance to finally beat those Vocal Adrenaline snobs at the highly coveted (at least in her mind) National Show Choir competitions. This year it was being held in San Francisco, and Rachel had spent most of the year, hell, most of high school, preparing for this. She absolutely could not fail this close to winning the prize. Hence, her decision to gain access to the auditorium by any means necessary. (Even blackmail, but that really felt like too strong a word. She preferred to call it the _powers of persuasion_.)

Once she was ready, Rachel headed downstairs to find her dads preparing to eat breakfast. Dad was seated at the table, quietly reading the business section of the morning paper, like he always did, while Daddy was making his way around the kitchen, tofu scramble in hand.

"Morning Twinkles," Daddy greeted her warmly, causing Dad to look up and smile at her. "Ready for breakfast?"

Rachel looked at the two plates her Daddy was holding and felt a flash of irritation. "Daddy..." Rachel whined impatiently, though she resisted the urge to stamp her foot. "I thought I told you I wanted to leave early today. I _need_ to get to school to rehearse."

"Yes, dear. I understand that. But you and your father still need to eat."

She huffed and grudgingly took her seat as he placed a plate each in front her and her Dad. She ate quickly, eagerly watching her Dad spoon the last mouthful into his mouth.

"Okay, let's go." She jumped up and tugged on her Dad's arm, pulling him hurriedly towards the door. If she wasn't in such a hurry to get to school, she might have caught the looks of exasperated amusement her fathers shared as the pair hurried out to the car, leaving with nothing more than a "Bye Daddy!" before they drove away.

Rachel chatted happily with her Dad during the ten minute car ride to the McKinley high campus. She was excited. Not only was she eagerly anticipating the end of the absolute torture that was high school, but last week she had finally received her acceptance letter into the Performing Arts program at NYU. Everything she had worked so hard for was culminating in the best possible way for her to leave this hellhole. Nationals in 4 weeks. Graduation in 6 weeks. And if she had her way, she would be moving to New York (_New York!_) mid-summer at the latest to prepare for the upcoming semester. Her fathers had already agreed to rent a small apartment near NYU, as long as her grades remained pristine and she took up a part-time job on campus. (With her talent and drive, she was sure that would be no problem at all.) It was all really exciting, to say the least.

She grinned widely as they passed the bright yellow school bus beginning its route through the neighbourhood, immensely glad that she wouldn't be subjected to the perils of that particular journey for a while. Normally, if she wasn't so insistent on practicing before classes, she'd have to take the bus to school. And _normally,_ that wouldn't be a problem. Except, ever since her brief stint in the celibacy club (don't ask her why) Jacob Ben-Israel had taken to sitting next to or near her whenever they were on the bus together. He was one of those types of guys that didn't understand the concept of personal boundaries and couldn't seem to take no for an answer, no matter how many times she flat out refused to go out with him. (Even if she wasn't so busy with glee and school work, she'd have said no. _Emphatically _no.)

Rachel jumped out of the car as soon as her Dad pulled up to curb. "Have a good day at school, honey." He called as she gathered her things, "Oh, and Rachel?" She turned back to look at him, holding the door open with her body. "Try to relax and have some fun." He smiled encouragingly. "It's not long before you graduate, so just try and enjoy the time you have left here."

She stared blankly at her Dad for a moment before fixing her best show smile to her face. "I promise, Dad." She replied. Adding silently, _As soon as Nationals are over. And I've taken New York by storm._

"Good."

Rachel looked at her father curiously, wondering if there was more behind his advice than he let on, but she instantly dismissed the idea and shut the door. While she was close to her parents, she often felt like they didn't understand what it was like to be her. She had a dream. And she was determined to make that dream come true. There was always plenty of time to have fun and laugh later. Right now, she had to stay focused on winning Nationals and graduating. (And eventually, taking over Broadway, one hit musical at a time.)

Rachel watched carefully as their silver sedan drove away, waiting until it had disappeared out of sight before she pulled her favourite (and extremely necessary) pink-and-white polka dot raincoat from her bag. There was one other thing about McKinley high that always kept her on edge. Especially in the mornings. Due to the fact that she was in Glee club (and Rachel being... well, _Rachel_), she was more likely than not to start her day with an ice cold slushie facial. It's sad to say, but she was actually used to the way she was treated at this school. Had been since freshman year. But that also meant she was always, _always_, prepared.

She was sure her Dads didn't have any clue what was going on though. As far as they knew, Rachel was a happy, well adjusted, slightly over-achieving girl in Glee club. With big dreams, of course. There was once in the third grade when Rachel had come home crying because some of the girls had called her '_defective'_ for having two dads. The fallout from that still kind of brought tears to her eyes, and she hated to see her Dads so upset, especially Daddy. So she just _omitted_ the parts of her days that involved cold syrupy ice seeping into her clothing. It was just better that way.

Glancing around quickly at the mostly empty school grounds, she pulled on her raincoat, lifted the hood and made her way to the auditorium. Even this early in the morning, there was no telling who was out there.

.-.

Puck looked around proudly as he made his way through the school hallways, throwing his trademark smirk to the _ladies_ as he strut passed them. He was used to girls always swooning and falling all over him. He was the student body president after all. And a star player of the three-time National Championship football team. Plus people just couldn't compete with his badassness. Basically, he was awesome. And to top it all off, he had the hottest girlfriend in school, the head cheerleader of the equally impressive Cheerios, Quinn Fabray.

"Hey, what's up Connie?" He nodded at a cute Asian girl as he strolled by, deciding to give the shy-looking girl a thrill.

He wasn't really paying attention after that, but if he was he'd have heard her sigh dreamily: "H-h-he spoke to me..."

Her unimpressed friend looked at her. "He called you Connie."

"S-S-S-So?" She stuttered in annoyance.

"Your name is _Tina_."

Puck continued walking, heading towards the lockers at the end of the hall where his mates, Finn Hudson and Dave Karofsky, were standing.

"'Sup dudes?" he greeted casually, pulling his locker door open and shoving his bag inside. He didn't even bother pretending to get his school books. Like he even had any.

"Hey." They replied back, both nodding their heads slightly upwards.

"Nothing much," Dave continued with a smug smile planted on his face, before taking a swig from the large red slushie he held in his hands. "Finn and I were just discussing how much pussy I got over spring break. I'm telling you, Florida was da bomb!"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Whatever man. Like I need to fly half way across the country to get me some pussy." He _really_ didn't want to talk about spring break. Especially if Dave's was as awesome as he was claiming.

"What? The Virgin Queen finally decided to spread her legs for you? Yeah, right!" Dave exclaimed in mocking disbelief.

Puck grumbled as both Dave and Finn started laughing. He turned away and headed towards the two Cheerios standing at the other end of the hall.

.-.

Rachel rushed to her locker, completely oblivious to Puck as he stalked by.

"Morning Jesse," she greeted her best friend and long time Glee aficionado.

"Hey," he replied sticking his head out of his neighbouring locker with a smile. "Here's the _Les Misérables _sheet music you asked for before spring break."

"Oh thanks!" She exclaimed excitedly, carefully taking the music from him and filing it in her perfectly organised locker. She grabbed the books she needed and closed the door, turning to walk down the hall with him.

"While I know my rendition of _On My Own_ is practically perfect, I wanted to play around with an arrangement of _One Day_ _More _as a possible group performance."

"With me singing the part of Valjean, of course." He smiled at her encouragingly.

"Naturally," she smiled back, secretly loving the smile he was sending her. Truth be told, she had always had somewhat of a torch for her best friend, he was exactly like her, except male. And maybe there was something to be said about the weird psychology of effectively having a crush on herself, but Jesse always made her feel less alone when they were together. Like her dreams weren't as farfetched as everyone else seemed to believe. She had never told him, or anyone else for that matter, though sometimes she thought he might suspect her true feelings for him. If he did, he'd never done anything about it. He always said he was far too focused on his future career to worry about such trifling matters as _relationships_. And she always agreed. How could she not? He was so _smart_.

Suddenly, Rachel was hit by an all-too familiar icy cold sensation, completely shocking her system. She stopped mid-step and gasped in surprise at the abrupt onslaught to her senses, the cold syrup oozing down through the gaps of her raincoat and into the top of her shirt. Rachel had been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't even see it coming, though in retrospect, she should have been more alert.

"Karofsky!" Jesse yelled angrily, moving to push the bulky football player up against the nearby row of lockers, but in a flash he was being held back by two or three other members of the football team.

"Yeah?" Dave smiled menacingly. "Bring it tough guy!" He said thrusting his chest out and waving his arms threateningly. "Or is the Glee Queen too weak to do anything about it?"

Jesse growled, struggling against his restrainers. "Say that to me without your lackeys holding me back. We all know you don't have to balls to take me on one-on-one."

"Why you..." Dave lurched forward, but someone came between them.

"Okay, that's enough." Kurt said standing between the two angry guys, holding his arms out. "Finn, a little help please." Kurt stared pointedly at his step-brother and Finn automatically began to hold Dave back from any assault. They may not run in the same crowds, but everyone knew not to mess with Kurt. Especially Karofsky. Even if he did so grudgingly.

Kurt waved them away as Finn dragged Dave down the hall, away from the scene. The footballers restraining Jesse let go once they were out of sight, and Jesse huffed in annoyance at Kurt.

"I could've handled that." Jesse grumbled, turning to a still ashen-faced Rachel.

"Yes." Kurt replied sceptically. "You forget I was there for your last pushing match between yourself and David. And as invigorating as that was to watch," Kurt paused to roll his eyes before continuing. "I do believe there is no way you could have taken on half the football team." He then turned to look at Rachel, grabbed her hand and lead her towards the closest thing McKinley high had to a day spa. The girls bathroom. "Come on, Diva. Let's get you cleaned up."

.-.

"Hola Mamacitas," Puck greeted Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce as he approached. "Have you seen my girl?" He was kind of anxious to see Quinn. He hadn't seen her since she left for a Christian retreat with her family at the beginning of the break, and when she left, they sort of left things up in the air.

Both girls in front of him exchanged weary looks before turning away.

"Nope." Santana replied with a pop, and threw her lipstick back into her locker. "Haven't seen her."

Puck's brow furrowed. They were both avoiding his gaze. "Brittany?"

"No." She almost squeaked, shifting her eyes back and forth, her hands tucked behind her back as if she was hiding something. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"What?" Puck asked, very confused. "You know, my girlfriend? Quinn Fabray? Blonde? Cheerio? Legs for days? Come on, you guys! What's up?"

"God! Nothing!" Santana exclaimed harshly, catching Puck off guard. "We haven't seen her, okay?"

Puck watched, completely bewildered as they walked away, pinkies linked. He was just about to call after them when he finally saw just the person he was looking for stalking down the hallway as if she owned the place (she practically did). Except... she wasn't wearing her usual matching Cheerios uniform as Santana and Brittany were, both of whom had taken their place behind Quinn as she made her way towards him. No, now she was wearing a very demure white sun dress and cardigan, her silver cross hanging around her neck prominently and her golden curls falling delicately around her face, instead of the tight pony tail that made her look more... pointed. Neither Santana nor Brittany showed any sign of surprise at her new attire as they followed Quinn, but the rest of the school definitely seemed to notice the change. _Whatever_. It wasn't like it really mattered, as long as she was his.

"Hey," he greeted her, holding out his hands and leaning forward to plant the customary kiss on her cheek. But she stopped him just short.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, just out of reach and turning around to face the other two girls. "I've just remembered I've got to talk to the girls about something. Go round them up for me, will you? Thanks." She said, shooing them away. As queen bee, it was a normal occurrence for her to treat them that way.

"Hey baby, how was your break?" he tried again, pulling her backwards into his arms. "Missed you."

"Listen Puck," Quinn said sternly, ignoring his welcoming greeting. She turned to face him and pushed him away slightly. "I've been thinking, and I think we should break up."

Puck stared at her, completely dumbfounded. "What?"

"I just think we're going in different directions. I mean, you didn't honestly think I'd go away to college still dating you, did you?" He stood there like a punk, stunned into silence. This was coming out of left field. Sure, when she left with her parents, things had been a bit weird, but he just figured that was because they'd finally, _finally_, had sex. He thought she'd enjoyed it. It fucking seemed like she did at the time. But after a couple of texts and calls over the first few days, he hadn't heard from her at all. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, trying to sound sincere, but it almost seemed like she was mocking him. "You did? That's so sweet." And with a pat on the shoulder, she turned and walked away to join the rest of the Cheerios.

.-.

"Cheer up, diva," Kurt said consolingly as he washed the red-coloured ice out of Rachel's hair. "Just think, one day Dave Karofsky will be pumping gas in this dead-end town and you'll be headlining on Broadway."

"Thanks Kurt," she tried to smile as she held back her tears. While Rachel was in fact used to the icky sensation of ice dripping down her blouse, the utter humiliation that came with it didn't wash away quite so easily.

"It's true." He said reassuringly. "Just you wait. We're divas! We're fierce no matter what!"

He gently tilted her head back to wring out her hair before lifting it out of the sink. Just then, Mercedes made her way through the bathroom door, emergency supplies in hand.

"Oh my god, you'll never believe what just happened!" she exclaimed excitedly, simultaneously handing Rachel her bag of spare clothes. "Quinn Fabray just dumped Puckerman! Right there in the hallways!"

"What?" Kurt gasped in disbelief. "No way! The golden duo is dead?"

Rachel tuned out after that. She really didn't care about the 'popluar' crowd and their never ending drama. She preferred her drama to be on-stage rather than off. Instead, she quickly got dressed as both Mercedes and Kurt buzzed around her, helping Rachel to dry her hair. It was just sensible to include a hair dryer in their emergency kit. Getting a slushie tossed in their faces occurred often enough. To all of them.

Once they were done, the three of them hurried out into the halls, dirty clothes wrapped neatly in a laundry bag, where Jesse was waiting patiently with Rachel's books.

"Thanks guys, I'll see you at lunch." she said to them, before turning to Jesse and gathering her belongings from him. "Thanks Jesse." She said gratefully, looking into his eyes.

He smiled at her and asked, "You okay?"

Rachel smiled back softly, "Yes. I fine."

His smile widened, his eyes twinkling. It was moments like these that made Rachel think...maybe... "Good." He nodded. "Now we better get to class before Mrs. Kowalski give us detention."

.-.

"Okay, you guys... go." Puck commanded to the rest of the simpering Cheerios at the overcrowded lunch table. He then turned to Quinn and pulled her down to sit in front of him. "You, sit."

"You can't talk to me this way!" Quinn gasped indignantly, her fierce gaze telling her squad to stay put.

"Shut it." Puck admonished, his frustration evidently showing. "Get out of here. Now!" He growled, fixing them with his most menacing glare. He'd been a tyrant all morning. Even worse than Karofsky. Which was saying something.

With an almost imperceptible nod, Quinn told the girls to disperse, though Santana and Brittany seemed a little more reluctant to leave.

"What do you want Puck?" Quinn asked tersely.

"What do I want?" He spat out, trying to keep his voice down, though it wasn't easy. "I want to know what the hell happened!"

"I don't know what you mean," she replied, staring at her nails as she feigned disinterest.

"Cut the crap, Quinn. We were fine when you left on that stupid retreat –"

"Hey! It was not stupid!" she huffed in annoyance.

"– and then nothing! For days!" He continued, ignoring her interruption. "And then you come back dressed like this and all of a sudden break up with me. Now tell me, what the fuck's going on?"

"Nothing!" Quinn insisted exasperatedly, but when Puck fixed her with his famous you-can't-bullshit-a-bullshitter stare, she let out a loud resigned sigh. "Fine! If you want to torture yourself." She was silent for another moment before she spoke. "I met someone."

"What?" Puck growled again, his anger getting dangerously high.

"His name is Sam Evans and he goes to Dalton Academy. You know, that private school up on the hill? Well... anyway, his Dad is a friend of my Dad's. So, he was at the Christian retreat with me, and we sort of hit it off. He's planning to be a senator, you know, Puck. Can you imagine? Me a senator's wife? It'll be perfect."

"What?" he asked again, his voice dripping with disdain. "What the fuck? Wife?"

"Oh come on, Puck. He has a ten-year plan. And sure, it may not happen until we're at least 35, but still... a senator!"

"And what about me?"

Quinn looked at him with disbelief. "What about you, Puck?"

Her harsh gaze almost caused Puck to flinch. "I... you know..." he started. "Well, I could be a senator some day." He finished with more conviction.

"Please..." she rolled her eyes. "You're not even Christian." When she saw his gaze harden, Quinn took Puck's hand in hers and spoke calmly, almost resigned. "Look Puck, you're a Lima Loser, and you'll always be a Lima Loser. And I just can't stand the thought of being stuck in this know-nothing town. " He stared at her fingers as she patted his hand once more, before it slipped out and she left him sitting there.

He continued staring at the place her fingers once were for another moment. Then suddenly his gaze snapped up and he looked around. He scowled as he realised the entire cafeteria was watching him, inevitably watching his utter humiliation. As soon as they noticed Puck had snapped out of his stupor, the rest of the crowd quickly resumed the hustle and bustle surrounding him, eager to avoid being on the end of his wrath.

That, however, was the last thing on Puck's mind.

.-.

"I think we should sing a duet at Nationals." Rachel recommended to Jesse afterschool as they made their way to glee rehearsals. "It only seems right to continue our impeccably successful trend this year of singing time honoured classics together to win."

"I agree." Jesse replied with a smile.

"How about a duet version of the Gershwin classic, _He Loves and She Loves_? Fred Astaire was rather marvellous._"_

Jesse's smile widened in agreement. "Though was it weird that he was technically singing it to his sister?" He wondered out loud.

Rachel hesitated. "Well, it was all purely professional. They often played romantic roles opposite each other. And both Fred and Adele's stage careers were extremely successful. Plus, he sings it to Audrey Hepburn in the movie."

Jesse thought about it for another moment before nodding. "Okay, _Audrey_." He teased. "We'll try it out during rehearsals. I'm sure Brad will know it. He always seems to know everything."

Rachel laughed as they reached the choir room, excitement bubbling up inside her.

Just then a loud raucous noise sounded from down the hall, and the pair looked up to see Dave, Puck and Finn standing at the end of the corridor. Rachel saw Jesse's fists clench as he stared at the trio, motioning towards them, but she clasped his wrist tightly in her hands.

"Jesse, don't." She pleaded. His head turned to look at her. "It's not worth it." She said, pulling the begrudged Jesse into the room after her.

.-.

However, Jesse and Rachel had not gone unnoticed by Dave. "Hey look," he nodded towards them, cracking his knuckles dangerously.

Finn rolled his eyes, and shook his head. "Leave it, dude."

"Why?" Dave countered in annoyance, looking down at the new bright blue slushie in his hand.

"Because one slushie's enough for one day. Aren't I right, Puck?"

The two of them turned towards Puck, but he wasn't paying attention. They both looked passed him to see what Puck was staring at, and their eyes widened. Their gazes shifted between the sight down the hall, and Puck's clenched fists. Near the school's entrance, a tall blonde guy was walking towards them, stopping short as he reached Quinn at her locker. The sappy looks passing between this new golden couple (literally – their hair shone brightly enough together) was enough to make any guy puke.

"This is total bullshit." Puck announced fiercely, finally tearing his eyes away from them. "Quinn thinks she's so hot. But I'm telling you, there are hundreds of girls at this school, and I could fuck each and every one of them. Quinn Fabray is totally replaceable."

Dave and Finn exchanged weary looks before Dave opened his mouth to speak. "Listen dude, I know you're hurting right now. But that's total bullshit."

"What?" Puck asked, getting ready to punch his so-called friend in the face.

"Quinn Fabray is totally non-replaceable." Dave explained, ignoring Finn's pondering '_Dude, is that even a word?'_ "I mean, every girl wants to be her and every guy wants to fuck her. Heck, even some girls want to fuck her. I've seen the way Santana looks at her."

Finn nodded in agreement. "I hate to admit it Puck, but Dave's right. She's basically you. With boobs."

But not even the image of Santana and Quinn locked in a tangle of arms, legs and lips could stop his rant right now. "No, no, no." Puck said, shaking his head. "If you take away the make-up and the glamour. She's just some spoiled, rich kid who preaches about celibacy and god." Dave shook his head disbelievingly, which only spurred Puck on. "I bet I could take any girl at this school and turn her into the most popular girl by the end of term. I mean, with the right hair, the right make-up, the right clothes and the right guy, she could probably _be_ prom queen."

Dave scoffed. "You're totally dreamin' man."

"What? Don't believe me?" Puck asked, tensely.

"No, I don't." Dave replied, gripping the red Big Gulp cup in his hand even tighter.

"I can do it." When Dave just shook his head again, Puck said something incredibly stupid that would change his life. "Wanna bet?"

The two boys stared at each other, daring the other to stand down.

Dave scoffed again without flinching. "Yeah. Okay."

"Look guys," Finn tried to intervene. "This was funny and all, but don't you think that's enough. Dave, you're taking advantage of Puck in his delicate emotional state."

"Shut up Finn, I'm fine."

Finn raised his hands in surrender, stepping back to let the other two sort out whatever this fight was.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll pick any girl at this school. And you'll have six weeks to turn her into the prom queen." Dave challenged.

"Okay. Deal." Puck stuck out his hand defiantly.

"Deal."

The boys shook hands forcefully, which was more of a death grip than a shake.

"Okay." Dave said, still staring at Puck.

"Okay." Puck repeated.

Finn just stood by watching apprehensively.

Finally, Dave gave Puck an evil grin and started walking down the hall. "Well, then... let's go shopping." Puck just rolled his eyes at him and followed, with Finn trailing behind.

As they were walking, Dave pointed to a pair of girls, a heavy set African American and a tiny Asian, who were arguing amongst themselves.

"H-H-Hurry up Mercedes. W-w-w-we're late."

Dave laughed. "How about T-T-Tina the s-s-s-stutterer." He muttered to Puck.

Puck shook his head as Dave laughed harder. He was having _way _too much fun with this.

"Or, how about Lauren the wrestler." Dave asked, as the large girl ambled past, wrestling helmet perched prominently on her head.

Puck's eyes widened in horror. "A-are you sure about Tina, I mean..." He trailed off as Dave almost had a fit. Even Finn couldn't hold back a laugh, although he tried to hide it behind his hand like a pussy.

Puck glowered. "Fine, whatever." He mumbled, already preparing himself for the inevitable.

Just at that moment, a door swung open just where they were walking and out stormed a very angry Rachel Berry directly in front of them. They were all kind of caught off guard, stopping hastily in their tracks as she almost streamlined into them. Dave, however, took this opportunity to hurl his half-melted slushie in the unsuspecting Glee freaks face.

She let out a gasp of horror, staring wide-eyed at the three boys. Dave had a smug smirk plastered across his face, while Finn and Puck sort of gaped at her. Rachel's eyes narrowed in anger. They watched as she let out a shrill, frustrated scream and stamped her foot, turning sharply on her heel and disappearing into the nearest girls bathroom.

"Gentlemen, we have a winner!" Dave proclaimed, turning his smug gaze onto Puck.

"What?" Puck exclaimed in astonishment. "Rachel Berry?" He stared blankly down the hall, before shaking his head vigorously. "No, no, no, no, no!" He turned to Dave. "Look, fat I can deal with. But weird clothes, weird boobs, bad attitude and that scary obsession with theatre and wearing sweaters with animals on them? I mean, come on!"

Dave just stood there, obviously amused. "Why're you looking at me Puck?" Dave shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't give a damn, and pretended to check his watch. "By my calculations, you have six weeks 'till prom, and if Rachel Berry's going to be prom queen, well then, I'd say you've got your work cut out for you."

Puck continued staring hopelessly at the door Rachel had disappeared through, as Dave walked away, his joyous, cruel laughter echoing down the halls.

Well, by his calculations, Puck was well and truly fucked.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, what do you guys think? I know it's kinda a lot like the movie at the moment, but I promise you, I have a few Glee-specific twists to add in to make it more my own. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

**beneath the milky twilight – Chapter 2**

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed (and fav'd and alerted) the first chapter! I hope you all enjoy the next instalment!

* * *

><p>The next morning, Puck found himself standing in the school's overcrowded hallway waiting for Rachel to turn up at her locker.<p>

This was going to be a cakewalk. All he had to do was get Rachel on his side, without telling her of course, and the crowds at McKinley high would automatically fall in line, making her popular too. He was sure of it. The people at this school were, for lack of a better word, stupid. They followed the popular crowd like a flock of sheep, no matter what. Heck, they even cheered them on. Once, Finn had walked straight into a closed door, and people still worshiped the ground he stood on. (Puck was half expecting them to put up a shrine with a plaque labelled 'The Door Finn Hudson Once Walked Into', or some shit like that. Did he mention they were stupid? And unimaginative. Obviously.) Such was the life of being awesome. How else do you think Puck, of all people, became student body president? It's definitely not because he actually _wanted _the job. People just liked him, okay?

So yeah, Puck was absolutely sure the same would apply with Rachel and this stupid bet. He just had to become friends with her first.

But he was sure that would be easy. He could get any girl to drop their panties just by looking at them. It's happened once before. No joke. Oh, who was he kidding? It's happened a bunch of times.

Rachel Berry would be no problem at all.

When she finally arrived at her locker, a purple raincoat wrapped tightly around her body and her head barely discernable under the hood, Puck stood for a moment, watching her as she rushed to collect her things. It was amusing (not cute) the way her head peeked out occasionally, eyes darting from side-to-side, to prepare her for any possible attack.

He took a deep breath and approached. There was no turning back now.

"Hey Rachel," he greeted her. Puck watched as she turned around, the smile on her face fading quickly when she saw him. Flashing Rachel his most charming smile, he opened his mouth to speak, except at that moment purple slush came hurtling towards her face out of nowhere. It was only then that Puck noticed Dave had walked up beside him, a satisfied smirk firmly planted on his face.

Rachel's face was frozen (literally) with shock as she stared at the two of them, and it was like the previous day all over again. She stood gaping for a moment before letting out an indignant scream and stamping her foot. She only moved to grab her bag out of her locker, then slammed the door shut and rushed to the nearest bathroom.

Puck rolled his eyes and turned to face Dave.

"You're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?" he asked rhetorically.

Dave's smirk just widened as he answered, "Now why the fuck would I do that?" Dave walked away, laughing hysterically while Puck was forced to stand there and watch.

Puck groaned in frustration and rubbed the base of his neck. He waited outside the girls bathroom for a little while until he started getting weird looks from the girls passing through the door. Forced to give up for the time being, Puck walked away, telling himself he'd catch up with her eventually. Preferably in an empty corridor where no one else could jump out unexpectedly and ruin another attempt at initiating his _fool-proof _plan.

.-.

Rachel sighed deeply as she once again wiped corn syrup from her face, this time grape flavoured. She thought she'd been more careful today. After being on the receiving end of two (_two!) _slushie facials the previous day, she had spent a lot of time today looking around corners, scouring the hallways for any signs of Karofsky. Obviously, she had been unsuccessful once again.

She leaned over the sink and stared carefully at her blurry reflection, blinking cautiously to ease the stinging sensation from the corn syrup in her eye.

"Six more weeks." She told her reflection with conviction. "Just hold on for six more weeks." She tried to smile. She _always_ tried to smile after something like this happened to her, because _when you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you_. Louis Armstrong said so. (Though sometimes Rachel couldn't help but think that was a whole load of _crap._ Four years of smiling with nothing but glares and slushies and general _hatred_ back tended to take the shine off uplifting lyrics such as his.)

Rachel removed her raincoat, silently thankful that she'd decided on her lilac one today. It had a higher collar to better protect her clothes. Plus she had tried to keep her hood on as tightly as possible, so her hair had been relatively unscathed. Her clothes were completely dry, _thank god,_ and only her fringe bared signs of her misfortune. Of course, the sticky corn syrup mixture didn't do wonders for her complexion, but all in all, it was an improvement. If that's what you could call it.

She hastily rinsed out her hair, a difficult task while standing over a standard bathroom sink, and then grabbed her emergency hair dryer, trying to get cleaned up as quickly as possible. All the while, she repeated to herself silently, _Six more weeks,_ a mantra she was sure she would be readily repeating during her remaining _six more weeks_.

The warning bell rang just as Rachel was getting her belongings squared away. She ran to the door and swung it open, only to collide with a very fierce looking Quinn.

"Out of my way, RuPaul," she commanded, pushing Rachel's body away and flattening her against the bathroom door as Quinn and her brainless minions breezed past.

Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head, choosing not to engage with the angry blonde. It wasn't worth it.

_Six more weeks. Just six more weeks. _

After quickly retrieving her books from her locker, Rachel hurried to class, taking her seat just as the final bell rang. She turned to her neighbour, Jesse, and gave him a brief smile 'hello'. His brow knitted together, and she knew he was silently asking why she was almost late for class. She sighed and shook her head, and by his corresponding sigh she knew he understood.

Another smile graced her lips as she opened her books and prepared for Mr. Ruben's history class. A small, quiet smile. She loved that Jesse could practically read her mind. Secretly, of course. It was her silver lining in all this misfortune.

_Only six more weeks. _

.-.

Puck finally saw his opportunity at the beginning of lunch, when he noticed Rachel and her ridiculous purple raincoat peering down the hallway to her locker from behind one of the halls many alcoves.

He walked up behind her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he greeted her softly.

Rachel turned, slowly at first but when she saw him, he felt her entire body tense and she immediately backed away, leaving his hand to fall back to his side.

"Why are you talking to me?" She asked accusingly. "Are you going to steal something from me?"

"What? No." He answered, a little annoyed that she automatically assumed the worst. True, he's a badass, but he hadn't done anything to her in, like, forever. (It's also true that he's never done anything to stop Karofsky from bullying her, but that's just... whatever. Not the point.) "I was just wondering..." he began, but the next thing he knew Rachel was turning sharply on her heel and walking away. She just left him standing there like a punk. He looked around at the curious stares from the other kids in the hallway, and continued flatly to himself, "...if you could embarrass me horribly in front of all these people."

_Well, fuck. Maybe this'll be harder than he thought. _

.-.

Later that afternoon after school, Puck lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and idly strumming his guitar when Santana breezed into his room.

"What's up Loser? Pitying yourself?"

Rolling his eyes, Puck sat up and swung his guitar to the side. "Nice San." He replied, scoffing as she lay down on her stomach next to him, some girly magazine in hand. "You know, you could've warned me about this shit."

"Yeah, I could have. But where's the fun in that?" She answered unfazed and started flipping through the pages, not even bothering to sound sympathetic of his plight.

Puck groaned. "God, you're such a bitch."

She arched her eyebrow, but once again didn't bother to look up from her article '_Ten Ways to Improve Your Orgasm' _or some shit. "And this is news?"

Puck scoffed again. "Why are you here, anyway?" When the only plausible explanation came to him, he reached out his hand and trailed his fingers down her arm. It'd been months since they'd done anything together, since he'd had anything but his hand wrapped around his cock. Actually, he'd ended things with Santana just after he and Quinn had gotten together. He never admitted it to Santana at the time (and there's no way in hell he's going to now), but he kind of liked Quinn. A lot. Hence, his brief stint of celibacy as Quinn got her shit together.

"Yeah, right." Santana replied with a satanic laugh and shrugged his hand away. "Don't kid yourself. I know you're probably horny as hell, since we both know Quinn's legs are practically sewn shut." Puck didn't know what to say to that. Obviously her 'best friend' hadn't mentioned anything about _that_ night at the beginning of spring break. And as much as he hated Quinn at the moment, he still cared about her and shit. And yeah, maybe there was this small part of him deep down that hoped Quinn would get bored of this pathetic _Ken and Barbie_ routine and come back to him. But there'll definitely be no chance of that if he went around talking about _that_ night. Santana laughed disdainfully before continuing, "And as much as it would piss Quinn off, I don't _do_ sloppy seconds."

"Who're you calling sloppy?" Puck muttered mutinously, but Santana just rolled her eyes and turned to the page.

When he realised Santana was actually being serious, and seriously _not_ going to have sex with him, Puck sighed inwardly and picked up his guitar again. He sat there absently strumming whatever tunes came to mind while pondering his dilemma with this _Rachel_ situation. Normally, he'd just flash a smile at a girl and they'd be a puddle at his feet, up for anything he desired. The only exception, _ever,_ was Quinn, which was why he dug her so much. She made him work for it. Really work for it.

But then again, even in that situation, she had let him at least talk to her, and he'd been able to slowly worm his way into her good graces. _Yep, he was fucking epic!_ He even got the celibacy queen to _thaw out_ enough to let him in. (And yeah, maybe he kind of let her in as well, but _look _where that got him.) Rachel on the other hand was too fucking scared of him to even look him the eye. For the first time since he started this stupid bet, Puck was really beginning to think he was fucked.

"So, who's she gonna be?" Santana's condescending voice cut through his thoughts a short while later.

Puck's strumming paused and he shot her a confused look. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Her eyes still focused on that stupid magazine, Santana answered, "You know, the rebound skank?"

"Rebound skank?" he asked, still confused.

Santana rolled her eyes. "You know, the chick you're gonna hook up with to piss the Queen Bitch off."

It was Puck's turn to roll his eyes. He would never understand this _friendship_ between Quinn and Santana. They acted like best friends, but given the chance they'd both stab each other in the back if needed. It's actually happened before. There was this whole thing about the Cheerio captaincy at the beginning of the year that had practically turned the school halls into a war zone. He had to admit, it was kind of hot. _Crazy_, but hot.

"I wouldn't exactly call her a rebound skank," He finally replied after some thought, his mind settling on Rachel and the bet. "But there is kind of a _project_."

"Project?" Santana asked, actually deigning to look up from her stupid magazine. "Intriguing. Talk."

Puck shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know."

He didn't know why, but he didn't feel comfortable telling Santana about the bet. She was a bitch. She'd probably tell the whole school before he'd even had a chance to get started, and then everything would be shot to hell. Quinn might rule the school, but Santana was the queen of high school gossip. Last year, Brittany had thought she'd gotten knocked up by her boyfriend, and by third period, the entire school was buzzing about it. And Britt's her best friend/lover, so yeah..._Not_ telling Santana anything was the safest bet.

"Oh come on," Santana pressed on. "I need details..." When Puck shot her a dubious look, Santana's evil grin became more pronounced. "What? Did something happen?"

Puck's eyes narrowed. "Well..." he began, hesitant of the delighted look Santana was giving him. "To tell you the truth, she kind of blew me off."

Santana laughed. "I like her already." _Bitch._ "Why? What'd you do?"

He shrugged his shoulders again. "Nothing. I just walked up to her, and she kinda just ignored me."

She scoffed derisively. "Puck, I know this might be hard for a bitch magnet, such as yourself, to understand..." She ignored Puck's scowl as he muttered mutinously under his breath. "But did it ever occur to you to make a little effort?" Obviously his face looked just as confused as before, because Santana rolled her eyes again before returning to her magazine. "Find out what she likes, where she hangs out. Who her friends are. _Idiot_" She muttered the last part under her breath, but clearly enough that he heard.

Puck opened his mouth, preparing some scathing retort, when Santana's phone beeped. She put down the magazine and checked the text before getting up. "Britts _wants_ to get her mack on before her dance class. And, who knows, maybe I'll persuade her to skip. _Ciao._" And just like that, she waltzed out of his room, just as carefree and unconcerned as she had walked in earlier, hips swinging and that mind-fuck of a cheerios skirt swishing as she went.

Puck stared dumbly after her as she disappeared out into the hall, pondering her 'advice'.

Grumbling to himself, Puck got out of bed and placed his guitar carefully in its stand, before heading downstairs for something to eat. _What? _Thinking made him hungry.

The scene in his kitchen was typical for a Tuesday evening. His ma was busily moving about the kitchen preparing dinner, while his sister sat at the dining table, obliviously coloring or something.

"Hey ma," he greeted, nimbly poaching some food as his mother tried to swat his hand away.

She grumbled something about manners before looking at him. "Was that Santana leaving earlier?" She asked him shrewdly, her disapproval of the young Latina streaming off her in waves.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah." She fixed him with a judgmental glare. "What?" he asked, holding his arms up in surrender. "We didn't do anything."

She continued to stare him down, her eyes narrowed and calculating, before she finally nodded and continued to prepare dinner. Puck sighed in relief, inwardly, of course. His ma was like some mastermind bull-shit detector, or something. No matter how good his 'acting' skills were, she had this uncanny knack for discerning when he was lying. Growing up in this household, Puck quickly learnt _not_ to mess with Mrs. Puckerman.

"Hey squirt," Puck greeted his younger sister, Becca, and took a seat beside her. She looked up at him with an annoyed frown. She hated when he called her that. "What?" he asked her teasingly, and nudged her arm, but she just rolled her eyes and continued colouring. She was getting really good at that. The ignoring him thing, not the colouring. Though that wasn't too bad either.

Puck idly picked up a blue pencil and started shading in the sky, Becca subconsciously moving the paper closer for him to reach.

"Oh Noah..." His mom called from behind the kitchen bench.

"Yeah?" He asked, not bothering to look up.

"I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something..." she continued, but her apprehensive tone immediately put him on edge.

He turned to her and cautiously asked, "What?"

"Well, it's about..." She began, but Puck didn't let her finish.

"I don't wanna talk about that." He scowled, dropping the pencil and pushing up from the table, ignoring his little sister's wide-eyed expression. He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here.

"But, Noah, he called and he just wants to..." she tried again, but once again, he cut her off.

"I don't care." He stalked out of the kitchen to the foyer, ignoring his mom as she followed behind.

"Noah, we have to talk about this eventually." She said earnestly, wringing the dishcloth in her hands.

"No, we don't." He stated, trying to control his temper. He grabbed his jacket out of the closet and pulled it on, rather more forcefully than necessary.

"Noah, where are you going?" she asked worriedly and normally it'd be enough to make him stop and pause, but he _really_ needed to _not_ talk about this right now. He _needed_ out of there.

"Out." He answered coldly, before storming out the front door to his truck, and ignoring his mother's anxious calls from the front porch.

Puck drove around for a little while before pulling over, his hand gripping the steering wheel. He desperately needed to get his mind off things.

Pulling out his phone, Puck scrolled to Finn's number and pressed 'call'.

"Hey dude, what's up?" Finn's friendly voice filtered through the ear piece.

"Hey man," Puck answered, knowing exactly how to take his mind off all the shit at home. "Is Kurt there?"

"Yeah, why?" Puck could hear the confusion in Finn's voice.

"Nothing. Just needed to ask him something." Puck replied. "Can you put him on?"

"Yeah... hold on a sec."

Puck rolled his eyes as he listened to Finn fumble around his house.

"Hello?" Kurt's haughty voice sounded in Puck's ear.

"Hey, Hummel. I wanted to ask you a question..."

Yeah, this was him 'making an effort'.

.-.

Rachel sat on the floor, her legs spread wide in front of her as she stretched. Her friend and dance instructor, Mike Chang, stood above her, idly chatting about the plan for today's jazz ballet class. Standing up, Mike automatically held out his hand for support and Rachel swung her leg up behind her, stretching towards the ceiling.

"I thought, uh, today we could try something a little different." The quiet Asian said timidly as Rachel switched legs. "I've been messing around with a combination of pop'n'lock moves that are kind of cool."

Rachel tried her best to give him an encouraging smile. "That sounds... interesting." She replied, though she didn't really like the sound of that. Sure, Mike was a genius when it came to choreography, but to her, pop'n'lock mixed with jazz ballet seemed like a recipe for disaster.

They were both busy discussing possible dance moves when Puck, unnoticed by ether of them, strolled up.

"Hey man," he greeted a very surprised Mike, clasping his hand in a manly-handshake. "How's it hanging?"

Both Rachel and Mike stared at him, stunned.

"H-hey, man." Mike eventually replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Not bad. You?"

"Yeah, not bad. Not bad." Puck repeated, his gaze shifting freely between Mike and the still gaping Rachel. "Look, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Rachel watched shrewdly as Puck led Mike away from her to talk quietly amongst themselves. Mike looked at Puck dubiously, like whatever Puck had to say was making him uneasy. Rachel knew the pair were friends, having played on the championship football team together, but from Mike's reluctant nodding and noticeable sighs, Rachel felt a similar feeling of uneasiness come over her. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. It was all very strange. Puck, whom she hasn't actually spoken to once in her four years of high school, had tried to talk to her at least twice today. First school, now here. Puck was following her. Why? She didn't know, but it was the only plausible explanation.

Her sixth-sense about these things made her feel weird, almost off balance. Rachel had always believed that she was a little psychic at times. And right now she couldn't quite make out what her instincts were trying to tell her. She had her normal strong feelings of foreboding, but the sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach was more than understandable. During the four years Puck had spent _not_ talking to her, he and his cronies had spent it throwing slushies in her face, terrorizing her friends and spreading hateful rumours about her.

But that's not what made her pause. There was also something else there. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on, and being the highly intuitive young woman that she was, she never liked to discount her woman's intuition.

This only served to put Rachel more on edge.

Finally, the pair broke apart, Mike shaking his head and she heard him mutter softly, "I don't really think this is a good idea, but whatever..."

Rachel's shoulders relaxed expecting to see Puck turn to leave, but then as Mike made his way to the front of the class, Puck came over and stood beside her.

"'Sup?" he asked her casually as he stood there, his arms hanging by his side in what Rachel deemed to be an oafish manner.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel hissed at him, clearly annoyed.

"Dancing." He stated unfazed, focusing his gaze on Mike as he started addressing the class.

Rachel fell silent as she tried to focus her attention on Mike, but her eyes kept flitting anxiously back to Puck. _He honestly didn't expect her to partner him, did he? _She asked herself, her mind running through a hundred possible scenarios where this was some ploy to humiliate her.

She felt a momentary wave of relief when she noticed Jesse enter the dance studio, his eyes glancing around, looking for her. He was late today, but she could easily forgive him that for saving her from whatever torture Puck had in mind.

However, to Rachel's dismay, when Jesse finally saw her standing next to Puck, her silent pleas were met with nothing more than a confused look. She tried with all the psychic energy she could muster to signal him, but, for what seemed like the first time ever, Jesse didn't understand her. Instead he half-shrugged his shoulders at her, and went to stand next to Brittany, the only girl standing by herself.

Now, Rachel had a very high respect for Brittany, at least talent-wise. She was an excellent dancer. Except, she tended to get distracted very (very) easily, and when she didn't know the next steps, she just made them up. This often resulted in both hit and miss situations. Like the time she and Mike won an award for most original choreography at the Lima, Ohio Amateur Dance (or L.O.A.D.) competitions; or the time Mike ended up in a cast for six weeks when Brittany accidentally caused him to trip over her and spin haphazardly around the dance floor. See? Hit _and _miss.

Rachel huffed in annoyance at the lack of communication between her and her best friend. He should _know_ that she needed saving right now. Puck's presence alone should have been enough of a reason.

She tapped her foot impatiently as Mike explained to the class what new moves they were working on today. As the dancers paired off and began working through the steps, Mike walked over to her and whispered in her ear, "Just go with it," before turning to the rest of the class to observe their progress.

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, and studied Puck. There was no possible way she was dancing with him. She turned back to Mike to protest, but he had already moved on to the other end of the studio. At a suspiciously fast rate if you ask her.

Rachel let out an exasperated sigh and decided to 'just go with it'. Though, she was ready to protest (loudly) at the first sign of mischief. Her frustration only doubled when she glanced back at Puck, who was watching her with a determined expression and holding out his hand towards her. She stared at his proffered hand, taking in his tattered jeans and baggy shirt, and scoffed again loudly. _He wasn't even dressed properly. _

It was disaster right from the start. Puck tried dismally to perform the strange pop'n'lock Mike had demonstrated, his legs bending awkwardly and his arms waving about. And it only got worse from there. Finally, when Puck had _failed_ to properly perform a standard spin, his flailing arms swinging around and almost hitting her in the face, Rachel had had enough.

She placed her hand squarely on his chest and began forcefully backing him out of the room.

"Are you trying to kill me? Or just break my nose?" she asked scathingly, her annoyance with him back at full steam.

"Geez, overreacting much." Puck replied, a little disgruntled. He obviously thought he was doing a _swell_ job.

"What do you want?" she asked, deciding to get straight to the point, and hopefully get whatever torture this was over with.

"What makes you think I want anything?" he retorted defensively.

"Puckerman, please." She scoffed again and held up a hand, signalling her intolerance. "My patience is wearing thin."

Suddenly, Puck looked very nervous. Panicked even. "Err... well... I wanted to talk to you... about..." he answered disjointedly. "... joining... glee club!" It was apparent to her, that he had just made that up.

Rachel's eyes narrowed and she stated matter-of-factly, "You hate glee club."

"Says who?" Puck shot back.

Rachel rolled her eyes disbelievingly. "You and your friends joined the heckling club with the sole purpose of learning how to further embarrass us at our most recent performance."

"Yeah, well, you know." Puck shrugged. "I have a rep to maintain and all." He looked up and finally met her eyes. "I actually, you know, like singing and shit."

"Singing and shit?" Rachel asked incredulously, but Puck just shrugged his shoulders again. Her eyes narrowed. "You probably don't even know how to sing."

Rachel was surprised to see Puck's back straighten at her words, and he looked at her defensively. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "I got mad skills. I can even play guitar."

A little taken aback by his forceful indignation, Rachel appraised him once more. The rational part of her mind was telling her that this was absolutely ridiculous. There was no way Noah Puckerman, of all people, was actually asking her for advice on how to join glee club.

But the other part? The curious and intrigued part found her saying, "Oh yeah?" in a challenging tone, eyebrow raised disbelievingly. She expected him to burst out laughing, to tell her this was all just some elaborate joke.

But instead, Puck stood his ground and he replied in the same defiant tone, "Yeah."

Rachel scoffed again, but she was stubborn and never one to back down from a challenge. "Okay. Then prove it." She bit out. "Audition tomorrow after school. 3:30pm. Don't be late."

Still fuming Rachel turned on her heel and re-entered the dance studio, not bothering to wait for his response. She stood around for a moment, observing the rest of the class, until Mike walked up to her sheepishly and offered to dance with her. She ignored the apologetic smile he was giving her as she accepted. While she much preferred to dance with Mike, she was still annoyed and unsure what all this was about. She knew that if she opened her mouth to speak, a litany of criticism and anger might (_would_) come spewing out.

Her disgruntled mood lasted until the end of class, when Jesse came over to talk to her. She was still a little annoyed at him for _abandoning_ her in her time of need.

"Hey," he greeted with the usual grin, and took a sip from his drink bottle.

"Hi." She replied tersely.

"What was all the commotion with Puckerman earlier?" He asked, clearly intrigued.

Rachel glanced up at him, a small part of her thinking (hoping) he was jealous of the other man's attentions (however unwanted they might be).

"I don't know. It was very strange. He said he wanted advice to join glee club, which I think is absolutely absurd..." Rachel began her already prepared rant, but Jesse wasn't really paying attention. Instead he was looking over her shoulder at something.

Rachel turned her head to take a look, but all she saw was Mike and Brittany going over some of the new choreography again.

"Jesse?" she asked hesitantly.

"Huh? Yeah... absurd." Jesse replied absentmindedly. It took another moment before he seemed to snap out of whatever stupor he was in. He looked down and smiled at her, swinging his arm casually around her shoulder as he steered out of the building. "Well, what did you tell the imbecile?"

.-.

Puck drove around aimlessly for a while after leaving the dance studio. It had been a somewhat productive afternoon. On the one hand, he had finally made some progress of the Rachel front, at the expense of his dignity, he might add. But on the other hand, it looked like he was going to have join the fucking glee club to get his plan to work. Small price to pay, really. His rep was so badass, that he could take the hit from entering loserdom. Probably even boost the losers' rep a little. Now all he had to do was find some kick ass audition song to sing tomorrow, and it'd be smooth sailing from there.

He was just about to pull into his driveway, when he noticed a rusty old mustang parked in his usual place. Puck's grip on the steering wheel tightened and swore under his breath. _What the fuck? _All the anger and frustration from this afternoon came flooding back to him.

Instead of heading inside, Puck reversed out, loudly revved his engine and drove away, deciding to head to Finn's house instead. The Hudson/Hummel clan were always welcoming, and maybe Finn and he could go through some audition shit. And maybe after, play a couple rounds of _Call of Duty_. Anything to avoid being home right now. Anything _at all_.


End file.
